


Tip of the iceberg

by Mellooh



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged up slightly to around 16, F/M, Homophobic Thoughts, M/M, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Soft Richie Tozier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-10-27 17:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20764457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellooh/pseuds/Mellooh
Summary: It’s a few years since the events of Pennywise the dancing clown, the near-death experiences and lingering threats seems to be gone.Now it’s time for Richie to start facing some of his deepest fears, his sexuality, and the idea that talking about your feelings is normal.





	1. Stan the man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rymeesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rymeesh/gifts).

_“I cannot believe they allow this!” Richie’s mother calls out, loud enough for Richie himself to hear it from upstairs. For a moment he wonders what she is complaining about this time, but the answer comes easily enough._

_“That man is obviously _gay._ Gay! The things they allow on the air these days. What about the children, the bad influence this has on them! I could never accept my own child being so vulgar. Can you imagine, Went? I would be so ashamed.” _

_Oh.  
_ _Oh god. She – She went there. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. But he had to get out. Had to go somewhere he knew he was safe. Not that she knew. She would never know. Nobody would ever know. A few clothes, a comic or three, Eddie’s spare inhaler, all he needed was haphazardly thrown in a bag and carried down the stairs._

_  
“And that _hair_ – Richie? Where are you going, boy? Dinner will be ready soon. Richie!”_

“Rich -”

“Richie.”

“Oi, get your head out of your ass already, four-eyes!”

Richie finally glanced up, said eyes more glossed over than he cared to admit them being right now. He took a quick drag from his cigarette, nasty habit picked up from spending too much time alone with Beverly, trying to act as if what Stan saw happening did not exist.

“Stan the man, I didn’t see you there! What’s up?” He asked, lips curling in grin too big for it to be convincing. Still, it was worth a shot. Everything was better than the alternative.

“What’s up. Is that all you have to say to me, Richie?” Stan replied, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’ve been standing here for three minutes, trying to get your attention. Don’t you ‘what’s up’ me, dipshit. You were supposed to meet us, remember. ‘Bout an hour ago? The whole group’s worried where the fuck you were this time.”

_Well shit. _

Richie certainly had not expected any of this, and it showed. First of all, because he was hanging around on the kissing bridge. Dreadful place, the other Losers did not visit here unless they needed a quick escape route. But second of all, because said group of Losers were supposed to still be in their clubhouse. Usually they did not care if one of them didn’t show up, it happened occasionally.

But now that he thought about it, Richie had not missed a meeting before. Even if he got grounded, he still snuck out for the next meeting to see his friends.

“Are you just going to gape at me, or will you move over already?” Stan asked, waiting approximately three seconds before he shoved his friend sideways and flopped down next to him.

It stayed quiet for a minute or so, Stan watching a flock of birds fly by while Richie finished his cigarette. It was the type of silence that lingered, that crawled on your skin. Things were supposed to be said, or asked, and it unsettled Richie. Normally he would talk all day, all night. The Losers were used to seeing him like that. Big, loud ‘trashmouth’ Richie, who never knew when the right time was to let things be. Pushing and prodding at anyone he could get a hold on. This side of him was foreign to both parties and worrying at the very least.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” Stan eventually asked, voice a little more weary than usual for him. As if he was trying to be gentler this time.

Richie glanced at him sideways, studying his friend’s face. Was he going to tell him? Stan, for all that it was worth (a lot), had always been his _best_ best friend. They had known each other the longest, even developed a sense of humour that the others just didn’t get. Would never get. And yet…

This changed the whole game. Was it something he was ready to speak about? He wasn’t even ready to accept it himself.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Stan.” He muttered, fingers feeling between them in search of his cigarettes. They were supposed to be there. He only had two so far, nerves not calmed down sufficiently enough to put the pack in his backpack again.

“Bitch, please.” Stan snapped back in an instant, waving the pack in front of Richie before putting them on his other side. “This isn’t like you, Rich. You’re way too quiet, you’ve made not even one joke yet, and I can see that you’ve been crying you dipshit. We both know you got something going on and it’s about time you tell me.”

….

“Rich.” Stan said slowly, moving around a little until he was properly facing his friend. The expression on his face more serious than ever.

“Stop this. I think I know what this is about. I know and it’s okay. I don’t care. If you thought _I _would care, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”

Those were not the words he had expected. And if it wasn’t for the gentle hand placed upon his knee, he would not even have believed they were going to be talking about the same subject matter.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Stanley.” Richie didn’t even look at his friend, awkwardly trying to get his cigarettes back from behind the others back. Not that he was allowed to, hands swatted away and pushed back until he gave up.

He knew that he was ignoring the questions lingering on Stan’s lips, that his posture was too stiff for himself to come off as casual and relaxed. But he wasn’t sure he was ready for these kinds of questions, for this all to come out. Literally, figuratively. It did not matter. All Richie knew was that whatever his thoughts were, whatever his body wanted, it was _wrong_. He was wrong and if Stan thought he knew the truth, then he was a little bit wrong as well. Stan would not care about him if he knew. Stan would hate him, just like the others. Bev would hate him, Bill would follow her, along with Ben. Mike surely would not like him anymore. And Eddie...  
  
Oh god – what would Eddie say if he found out? If he knew just how fucked up in the head Richie truly was. They used to have such fun together, teasing and prodding the other until they would either end up laughing, or punching to make it all stop.  
No, Eddie would be disgusted if he knew that Richie.. That he...

“It’s not a bad thing.” Stan then said, in that casual matter-of-fact tone that he used to describe some rare bird he read about in one of his books.

He sighed and glanced past Richie for a moment. There was a duffel bag there, obviously stuffed with whatever Richie deemed appropriate to bring. His right eye twitches slightly, but he tried to ignore it, right now it did not matter that the clothes inside wouldn't be stacked and folded properly.

"Where are you going to sleep, man?" Stan asked, rolling his eyes as Richie glanced in the direction of the woods. "The clubhouse, are you fucking with me? No. That place is filled with spiders. What kind of friend do you take me for? You're coming with me. Make one mom joke and you're out, though."

It was an order instead of an offer, but the smile that ghosted on Richie's lips was worth being strict for the seconds it lasted.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Stan."

"Richie.. Talk to me."

The bespectacled boy huffed and stood up, leaning against the railing of the bridge as he stared at the water. A duckling was swimming down there, it seemed. Maybe some fishes. Who knew these days? At least there were no more bodies, no more agony.

"You really can't fucking shut up, can you."

"Not now. Rich, please. You're worrying me."

That was a first. In their many years of friendship, not once had Stan said he was actually worried for Richie. At least not like this. And it was enough for Richie to sigh, brush some hair away from his face, and look down at his friend.

"I don't want you to hate me, too."

At this, Stan couldn't help but laugh. He shook his head, stood up as well, and gave his friend a light punch to the shoulder. The cigarettes he had kept away were now carefully placed next to Ritchie's hand, within seconds they were snatched up and lit up again.

"You might be an insufferable asshole, but you're _my_ insufferable asshole." Stan said then, rolling his eyes ever so slightly at the smoke that Richie allowed to come out of his mouth after a drag or two.

"And, Rich, I honestly do not care if you stare at Eddie the way Ben stares at Bev."

The reaction that Richie had was expected, yet many times worse than Stan would have thought at the same time. Perhaps he had hoped for relief, that the secrets were out in the open, or a quick joke to fuse the tension. Instead, Richie froze up, his flushed cheeks looking a lot less colourful than before. The cigarette in his hand was shaking vigorously, there was no way to hide that.

"Don't say that." Came the soft reply, after what felt like hours had gone past. "Don't talk like it's not something _disgusting_, Stan."

"But Rich, I -"

Richie cut him off with a huff and a sharp shake of his head, voice still soft. Still almost like it was broken, damaged.

"Do you have any idea how disgusted my ma would be? Don't lie, you know her. Plus, I heard her talk earlier 'bout some guy on the news. If it was her son, she'd kick him out. And do you know for sure what our friends would say, too? You don't. But I hear them talk, whisper, they can be just as judgemental you know. I know that they already judge me, hell, I know you join in sometimes as well, Stan. And I know I’ve got a big mouth and can’t shut up, but it sucks to hear them say it. You know that I can’t stop it."

Richie stopped talking for a moment, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He blew out the smoke, up in the air, watching it rise up higher and higher. Thankfully, Stan kept his silence, allowing him to continue.

"And when that fucking clown went after us, I already knew. And so did he. He knew how fucked up I am."

"So you rather listen to It than your friend, Rich? You rather listen to his opinion than mine." Stan retorted, eyes darting from the cigarette, his friend's face and the surrounding area.

"Fuck you, Stan. This isn't something simple. I'm a defect. Some fucked up human. That's what they call it, you know? Someone fucked up, goes to hell, gets aids, all that shit. Do you know they beat people up over it? Fuck, I got attacked by Henry enough times. All the time. It was never because I sassed back, I just told you all that so you wouldn’t find out. And I don’t... I don't even know, man."

Richie's demeanour changed after that, it became more slumped. Exhausted. His eyes seemed to have lost their sparkle, their joy, the more he talked about his feelings. About himself.  
Nobody ever heard Richie talk about himself, perhaps this was why. How nobody had noticed this, was easy to see now as well. Richie, as it appeared, was open and spoke everything that came on his mind. But he actually was so good at lying, the Losers did not even see the hidden truth anymore. Who would have thought that the loudest person in the room was suffering silently.

"Then I'll stand by you." Stan said, when it stayed quiet for a longer period. "I don't give a damn; I keep telling you. Let me help you out, Rich. And be honest with me. Because fuck you if you lie to me again, I will beat the actual shit out of you."

The threat made Richie laugh, knowing that Stan would not, could not do it. It wasn’t remotely like him to be violent.

"Why would I let you get beaten up over me, Stan the man. That's a complete bullshit thing to do. No, you better not. Just... Just let me go, man."

Stan raised an eyebrow at that last comment, then reached out and smacked his friend over the head. He did not lose his temper easily, but he had enough of this. Of the hatred clearly coming out of Richie, the disappointment.

  
"Beep beep, Rich. Seriously, I swear one day I'm going to actually kill you myself, you idiot."

"Not if I kill you first, know it all." Richie retorted, throwing his cigarette away and leaning his hip against the railing now, watching Stan a bit more closely.

  
"We'll see about that. Now, are you coming or not?"

Richie sighed, the doubt in his eyes clear once more. Since when were there so many emotions visible in his eyes? There were at least four now, flashing by at a speed Stan could not follow. But none were good, were normal.

"Say it, Rich. Accept it."

Richie shook his head, the slightest flinch in his body. Oh. There was that emotion again. The one Stan dreaded to see. _Fear_.

"Say it. It's just us. I already know. You know my secrets, Rich. Now share yours with me."

"I _can’t_, Stanley. Don’t make me do that."

The way Richie said it. So soft, so small. It was barely above a whisper. Stan accepted it for now, realising just how deep this fear went. After wrapping an arm over Richie's shoulders, he proceeded to give an affectionate squeeze. Pretending not to see the new tears in his eyes, on his cheeks. The way that his body trembled slightly and the inhales ran too sharp.

"Come on, let's go see if the other Losers are still in the clubhouse. Eddie was bringing over some new comics we could read. And then you'll stay at mine tonight. I can just tell my mom that you’ve got issues at home. Put on a cute face and she’ll accept it, and don’t mention that bar mitzvah if you want to stay alive."

Richie, looking both relieved yet still fearful, nodded and quickly walked off to grab his bag.  
There was so much more hidden in the depths of Richie’s mind, Stan realised. But not today. He would have plenty of time to figure it out and steer his friend in the right directions. After all, Stan was nothing if not loyal and proud.

And as Richie walked away, Stan could finally see what his tall body had been conveniently covering the whole time.

  
_ R + E _

  
  
Stan grinned, glancing at it for a few more seconds before walking after his friend, knowing he would protect this boy with his life.  
Until he would come out, be proud, and finally be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is feeling like Richie, please, find yourself a Stan. You deserve the world. <3


	2. Queen Bev

“Light me up, baby!” Richie exclaimed, holding out his cigarette for Beverly to light. She complied with a roll of her eyes, and the two fell into a comfortable silence once more.

Time had moved faster than Richie had realised, the unlikely event of meeting Stan on the bridge almost a week ago now. Not much had changed. Bill was still their unofficial leader, Bev and himself still smoked at the far end of the group, Eddie still glanced at them with worry occasionally before bitching about dangerous things. The single change was that Stan now gave the exact same glances that Eddie was known for. He did it right now, stealing three short glances over to the smokers while trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.  
It did not work. It was so bad that even Beverly glanced back to the group, giving Stan a perfectly plucked raised eyebrow. The question of ‘_what are you doing_’ hanging on her lips.

“Stan the man is just worried I’m snatching away Ben’s princess.” Richie quickly replied, making sure that Beverly did not have a chance to ask. He was not ready.

“I am nobody’s _princess_, Trashmouth. We all know I’m the queen.” Came her smooth reply, falling effortlessly into their banter.

“All hail the queen!” Richie exclaimed, all but ready to jump up and do an over the top bow for her.

Beverly was not the only one to laugh at this display of idiocy from Richie. Behind him he could hear the soft chuckles of Bill and, if he was correct _(of course he was_), Eddie. Knowing that he had made Eddie laugh was more than enough for the bespectacled boy to grin, standing up straight once more as to look at his fellow smoker. Bev, for all the attitude she tried to show, was positively beaming – eyes shining with the type of happiness he had not seen in her in years prior.

He knew why she wasn’t happy. Some nights she would call him, crying. Whispering about the nightmares of her father, coming back to haunt her at her most vulnerable moments.  
It was an unspoken agreement that they did _not_ mention this to the other Losers. A secret for a secret, as it would soon be.

Richie finally sat back down next to her and winked, taking a deep inhale of his nicotine stick. He blew the smoke upwards, to the bright skies above them.

“Mind if I crash at yours tonight, Bev?” He asked, trying to sound as casual as possible in case one of the others heard.

The glance Beverly shot back was enough to throw him back into a nervous fit, but he had promised himself to do this. If she could be brave, then so could he, right?

She nodded.

_Right._

Then it was settled. Tonight, while staying over at hers, he would try to bring the topic up. It was a cautionary decision to go to her before all the others. If she did not accept him the way he was, then he would still have cards to play when making sure that she would not tell the rest of the Losers. And if she, by some miracle, did not mind his preferences, then he at least got a good sleepover out of it.  
It was always fun to spend time with Beverly, but he was one of the few to do so in pairs. It seemed that most boys just did not dare or did not care.

“Cool, I’ll walk Eds home and then hop over to yours after dinner.”

And with that, he dropped his half-finished cigarette and strolled back over to the rest of the boys. He effortlessly squirmed his way in between Eddie and Mike, earning a punch to the arm from the former for interrupting their conversation. But it did not matter.

This felt like coming home.

Richie kept his promise to bring Eddie home, followed by a quick hour at his own place to have dinner and tell them he was staying with Stan. Of course his parents would not agree him sleeping over at a _girl’s_ house, so the lie slipped easily off his lips. This gave him a clear pass, since Stan was a well-behaved Jewish boy who had good manners.

He arrived at Beverley’s house just a little after eight in the evening, got let in by her aunt and easily found his way up to her room. The last few weeks he had been spending a surprising amount of time there.

By now he could easily tell you the lay-out of the room. It was average size, with a closet to the left. The walls were painted in a dusty pink colour and filled with posters of movies and bands Bev liked that moment. Her bed was large enough for two, with a copious number of pillows to fall onto. And the clutter on the ground showed that she honestly did not care about who walked in, it was _hers_. And Richie loved it. Even the small cactus in the window, next to a worn pack of cigarettes, was completely Bev.

Richie went to lay down on the bed, giving Beverly a slight grin at her spot near the window. She always stood there when having her last cigarette of the night, puffing the smoke out of the window. Her aunt did not like that she smoked inside, so this was the compromise they agreed on.

Beverly smiled back at him and leaned back a little, watching him with curious eyes.

“So, what’s got your panties in such a twist that you feel the need to stay here?” She asked, not one for subtle talking.

Richie appreciated that in Beverly. Perhaps that is why they got along so surprisingly well the last few years. She did not sell him any bullshit, not even to spare his feelings. If he was being stupid in the group, they all would ‘beep’ him of course. But it was either Stan or Beverly that would come up to him later and explain just what he did that bothered the others so much – as to give him an opportunity to stop it.

He really appreciated that. It wasn’t as if everything he said was done so with a deliberate intention. Sometimes he really could not shut himself up, words pouring out before he even had a chance to think of what they were formulating. Thoughts always going one hundred miles an hour or stopping at null with no smooth sailing in between.

It was exhausting when he said the wrong things. It was enthralling when he said the right things. It was a mess. It was Richie.

“Can’t a guy hang out with his best girl-friend?” He asked, glancing away quickly. Nerves were already bubbling up in his stomach, constricting around his throat. Why was talking so hard, now? He was so good at this.

“You’ve been acting a bit off for a week now, Rich.” Beverly replied easily, sliding over and sitting down next to his legs. “I don’t think we’ve ever stepped away to smoke so much before.”

“Okay, fine, fine.” He rolled his eyes in an adequate attempt of replicating Stan, but they still held that nervous spark in them. There was no calm sensation washing over him, no air to breathe. “I just – It’s been a bit hard to be at home these past days. I realised something, and uh, well, it’s kind of fucked up.”

“Rich. You know you can tell me, right? We promised. Complete honesty.”

Beverly carefully crawled over him and moved to lay by his side, her body facing his. She tugged lightly at his arm, until he gave in and allowed her to cuddle up close. It was friendly and warm, a source of comfort for them both. God, if only the other Losers knew how deprived of touch they both were. How they yearned to be held in any capacity, waiting for warmth to seep through their cold and hardened bones. The worst is that Richie tended to inflict this on himself, whereas Bev had it thrusted upon her.

“I know. It’s just hard.” His voice dropped down to a whisper, hugging her just a bit tighter to himself. One day, he would have to try and repay her. Let her know how safe this felt. He hoped he would receive that chance.

“I think I’ve fallen in love, Bev.”

It took Beverly a few moments to realise what he had just told her, but the effect was noticeable in her behaviour. She hugged him a little tighter, her breathing became more regular, and he could feel her smile against his chest. Oh, if only she _knew_.

She would.

He could never lie.

“Oh, Rich! Why did you not tell me? Who is it? What’s her name? Do we know her already?” Beverly started happily, nearly glued to her spot against his chest. Would she hear the loud _thump-thump_ that he felt deep to his core? Could she smell the fear coming from his armpits? How did she not realise?

“Bev… It – It’s not a _her_.”

It would have been easier to lie. To tell her that it was some girl he saw by chance in the mall, or when he went to visit family earlier that month for a birthday party. Richie could have thought up some elaborate lie to tell Beverly, and he could have sold it well. He had been lying about one thing or another for all his life now. But this was _Beverly_, brave, stupidly brave Beverly who fought beside him against a killer clown. He could not lie to her.

“My parents don’t want that, they don’t even want to accept it. I have no idea what to say, or do, or think. I mean why can’t I just be normal like the rest of you all. I just want to live on, forget that fucking summer, score myself a job for SNL. Just the normal things. I don’t know why this came over my head and decided to screw it all up.”

He was rambling again, he knew it. But why would he stop, now that he had felt Beverly pull away from him. She had to be disgusted, she _had_ to be. Why else would she suddenly back off from a hug? Beverly did not do such a thing.

“Richie, honey...” She whispered, effectively shutting him up by pressing her hand over his lips.

When he looked up at her, eyes wide as plates, he saw nothing of what he had expected in her eyes. There was no hate, no disgust. At the very least he had expected her to get red in the cheeks as she always did when getting angry, yelling at him about how _dirty _he was. How perverted and strange his thoughts had turned. Perhaps she would have told him to die, like the Bowers gang had done time and time again.

“I’m going to talk and you will listen, alright?”

Richie nodded. He could do nothing else than look up at her helplessly, searching for emotions he could understand.

“I don’t care who you do or don’t love. I don’t care who you want to fuck, marry or kill. If you say that you want to be with a guy, then fine.” Beverly stopped for a moment and gave him a glare. “Don’t you fucking dare give me that look, Trashmouth. I told you you’d listen to me.”

She continued with a huff, trying to blow a fallen strand of hair out of her face.

“We’ve been through too much together for me to care about that, Rich. I’ve told you shit that no soul alive knows. I’m your friend and you are mine. And damned be the day that I let _anything_ get between us.”

“Now, I’m going to remove my hand from your mouth. And you’re going to sit there, accept my hug, and shut up about any of those thoughts going on in your head. I can see them swimming, you idiot.”

  
Beverly then gingerly removed her hand and wrapped herself back around him, holding him tighter than she had before. Richie hugged back, pressing a gentle kiss on her fiery hair. He really did not deserve friends like her. So good to him, so pure.

“Does he know?”

“No. Nobody does. Well, Stan knows, and you now too. But I haven’t told E-“ He cut himself off instantly, eyes widening in fear. Well _fuck_. Fuck. That was not supposed to happen.

But in his arms, Bev let out a delighted little chuckle. He could practically see the gleam in her eyes. She would never let him live this down.

“I knew it. I just knew it! Oh, you two are such softies. Rich, you’re whipped, but I’m so happy you are. I fully support this, if you ever need to rant about your man know that I am your girl. The side girl. The babe.”

They both ended up laughing at Beverly’s expense, but the tension had been lifted from the room now. His secret was out to not one but two of the Losers, and they were happy. To be honest, Richie had not seen either of them _this_ happy in a very long time.

Perhaps he would be happy too.

But for now, he was content with the place he was in. There was love for him to fall back on. His fears had not suddenly disappeared, hell, he knew they would be there again in the morning. When he had to face Eddie again, face the Losers and the town of Derry with its hatred and unkindness.

Yet this night, as he continued to lay in a bed with his best girl-friend in the world, it did not matter. She did not mind his love for another guy, actively asking him questions about it until his face was flushed with embarrassment and tinged with tears from laughing.

The mask he had put on his face was cracking. How much longer would it take to burst?


	3. Haystack

_ Eddie. _

_ Eddie. _

_ Eddie. _

That is all that was in his cloudy mind right now. His best friend, laying in the hammock with him.

It was another sunny, rather lovely day. The Losers had decided to meet up at their clubhouse at around 1 in the afternoon, which would be in just over twenty minutes. Richie had come early, after Eddie had asked him if he could ‘swing by’ around noon. 

He did not even need to ask. Richie would always come when Eddie asked for it. 

So he had hurried up his chores and even made an attempt to brush out his hair, wanting to look his best. There was no Hawaiian shirt on his chest today, either. Eddie had looked him over, once he arrived, and hummed in a way that Richie took as appreciatively. After that they had quickly left Eddie’s home before his mother could say anything, and made their way over to the Barrens.    
Since it was such a good day, they had grabbed their bikes and raced one another there. All had been well so far - Eddie had not even complained about wanting alone time in the hammock as he usually did. Instead, he had moved in it with his stack of new comics, and waited for Richie to join him.   
It was new, confusing, and the reason why Richie did  _ not  _ properly read even half of the Spiderman comic Eddie had picked to be read first.

They were always close together, so this should not be something he reacted so strongly on. And yet, he did. Perhaps it was from his confessions to Stan and Beverly. Realising more and more that he was, in fact, in love with his best friend. A boy, nonetheless. Or perhaps it was because this one time, Eddie was acting quite more mellow than he usually was. Kinder, less like the raging fireball that he tended to be. 

“You okay, Eds?” He asked softly, flipping the page that Eddie’s eyes had been glued to for too long now. 

“Yeah, yeah it’s fine, Rich.” The boy replied, waving his hand and swatting Richie’s away, keeping him from the pages. “Just ma being annoying. Nothing unusual.”

“She’s been doing that more lately, hasn’t she?” Richie asked then, glancing over for a few seconds. The redness on Eddie’s cheeks spoke for him. 

“Yeah. It’s because I’m out so much, I guess. You know how it gets. Thinking I can’t take care of myself and all that bull. Sometimes I wonder if she even wants me to become an adult, or if she’s just hoping I’d stay with her till she dies.”

The two boys shuddered simultaneously at the thought of that. He could already picture it: An older Eddie, for some reason the exact same as now but with a hefty moustache, bringing his elderly mother her evening cup of tea. It was a disgusting idea, and one that he could not allow to happen.    
  
“Little does she know I’m going to whip you off to college with me when I get the chance.” Richie joked, nudging Eddie in his side. 

“Oh she’ll hate that. Make it somewhere more liberal than here, maybe California or New York. She hates the people there.” Eddie laughed out, leaning back into his friend. “I don’t care where we’ll go. As long as it’s away from here. Where would you want to go, Rich?”

  
  


The rest of their conversation fell short by the arrival of two of the Losers. Ben and Beverly climbed through the trapdoor and came over to the two boys in the hammock, arms filled with drinks and snacks. Richie noticed Beverly glancing the two of them over, grinning. She looked rather happy with the way they were pressed together - and he knew their thoughts were in sync at this moment. That this was something that felt  _ right _ .

“We need your help, doctor K.” Bev teased, putting her goodies down on the ground and directing her attention to the smallest Loser. “Mike’s got himself thrown off of his bike and has a cut on his leg, or something. All I know is that Bill asked for you to check it out.”

Eddie groaned and gave the comic to Richie, struggling for a moment to get out of the hammock. Did he even realise that in doing so, he pressed up closer for a moment? Did he notice the thumping of Richie’s heart, about to beat itself out of his chest?    
But the moment had passed, and so did Eddie. He had grabbed the medi-kit faster than the blink of an eye and followed Bev out of the clubhouse; muttering to himself about the risks of cuts subjected to the bacteria found in the Barrens. All while Beverly was laughing at him, teasing back that if anything, the farm Mike worked on would be a worse place to get hurt. After all, there was no doctor K. around to save the day.

Both Ben and Richie watched their friends go with small, content smiles on their faces.    
Richie had known that Ben was in love with Beverly for quite a while now. Ever since the adventures with a creepy space clown, to be exact. To see the two of them together was to watch an old-time movie. The one where the man eventually will have to chase the girl of his dreams, and sweeps her off of her feet. In this case, Beverly was most likely the man. She just hadn’t realised her part yet.

“How do you do it, man?” Richie asked, before he could stop his mouth from running. 

“How do I do what, Rich?” Ben threw back, sounding as polite as ever. He stepped closer after laying his snacks next to Bev’s, resting himself against one of the structure poles of the hammock.

“How do you, like, just accept that Beverly is around and you can’t act on it? I’m going  _ crazy _ here, man. I keep wanting to just do something, anything, and it’s driving me nuts. Tell me, when does it ever get easier?” 

“It doesn’t get easier. You just accept that maybe Eddie doesn’t like you the same and do nothing, or you act on your feelings and hope that he feels the same.” 

The look that Ben shot him was one of sympathy, no more or less. It took Richie a few long moments to realise that he had just come out to Ben in the fastest, most efficient, and weirdest way possible. Now that he started to think about it - he had not even said anything about  _ Eddie _ .

  
“Wait - Ben, how did you know?” He sputtered out, sitting up straight in the hammock.

“Because it’s obvious, isn’t it?” The boy replied, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side, eyeing Richie up.

“You keep touching him, annoying him, you even get into trouble for the guy. You two are practically joined at the hip by now. I know it’s been like that for years, but lately you just seemed to get a lot more intense about it. Can’t tell me your teasing isn’t hidden flirting, I’m onto you. Plus, I recognise that look you sport anywhere. It’s the same one Bill and I have for Bev. So you obviously have to at least crush on the guy. Which is totally fine, it’s a weird couple the two of you make, but somehow it feels right. It reminds me of back when I first met you, I thought the two of you were together as it was. Bill eventually told me that was not the case, though. But I still expected this to happen.”

Richie kept his gaze fixed on Ben’s face, searching every inch of it while he spoke. True to his nature he was overly kind and gentle, the twinkle in his eyes betraying that he had no hard feelings. He truly was a gift to the Losers. So kind and generous. So accepting. Richie often wondered how he still had not fucked it up between the two of them, his mouth ruining so many chances of friendship as it was.    
  
“You’re saying that you wouldn’t mind?” He asked, just to clarify.

Ben shook his head. “No! No I’d never mind, Rich. It’s clear the two of you are happiest when together. Why’d I be opposed to that? Because you’re both guys? Is that what you’re worrying about?”

“Well, duh? This is fucking  _ Derry _ , remember. You got carved on just for being chubby.”

“I couldn’t care less what gender you date, Rich. I just want my friends to be happy. And we all know Eddie makes you happy. Even if all the flirting is driving me up the wall. You seriously haven’t made a move on him yet? You’re acting like a couple already, Rich! Take a hint and get yourself a man after midnight.”    
  
Richie smiled softly at that comment, his heart swelling with pride. Eddie  _ did  _ make him happy, very much so. With Eddie, he barely had the time or mindset to be nervous or anxious about anything. When the two of them were hanging out together, he could truly be himself. It did not matter that he talked a lot of trash, or that he gave hugs out of nowhere. Eddie barely even snapped at him for calling him ‘Eds’ anymore these days, knowing that it was something Richie drew comfort out of. 

  
  


Before he had the chance to speak further about this with Ben, he heard a lot of noise from outside. It took mere seconds before the door opened and in came the group of Losers, still discussing some kind of movie they wanted to see together. Richie only had eyes for one particular one, who flashed him a big smile before moving away to put the medi-kit back in its place.

“Eddie spaghetti! I’ve been starting to miss ya, my man.” Richie called out, watching a grin form on Ben’s face.

_ Flirting _ . 

Right.   
He really was becoming predictable. But it had the desired reaction on Eddie at the very least. The boy huffed and threw back insults like it was second nature. And perhaps it was. Richie could barely remember a time where the two of them hadn’t been doing this exact thing. It was only now that he realised it for what it was, at least from his own side.

Would Eddie return his feelings? Richie understood that there were so many layers to his friends, some that he still had to fully appreciate and uncover. Perhaps it came from living with his overbearing mother for so long - certain parts of Eddie were just tucked away deep down inside his small body. Hidden from view for everyone, maybe even for himself. All to make his life just a little easier. 

Richie had uncovered many layers already. He, for example, was the only one that knew Eddie to be a master at running and parkour, something his mother did not allow because of his ‘asthma’. The boy could shoot off like a bullet, and climbs around like a monkey would. Richie still remembered the day they figured this skill out - remembered the proud look Eddie had on his face when realising he was  _ good _ at something. Ever since, they would occasionally sneak out together, running around and scaling up buildings and trees.

Before he could go through the extended list of all things Eddie, he was rudely interrupted by Bill. He glanced up at the other boy in annoyance, raising an eyebrow. Now, normally, he would not mind if Bill interrupted him in his thinking. But today the boy looked at him with just the wrong sort of grin, as if he was plotting. A plotting Bill was something to fear, run away from, and pretend not to have noticed at all.    
While the group as a whole was a disaster, most of their wicked and unsafe idea’s all came from their leader. Bill was the only one who did not care about the consequences, knowing that he would forever be on the good side of all adults of Derry.   
  


Richie vaguely heard something about himself coming from Bill’s mouth, and something about Eddie? He was not quite sure. 

Oh wait. He definitely heard Bill say  _ swimming _ there. That meant a shirtless Eddie. Oh hell yes that was a sight he wished to see. 

“If I get to see our Eds in swimming trunks you know I’m down faster than his ma can say ‘Eddie-dear’.” Richie exclaimed, glancing over to their friend to see his reaction.

Per usual, Eddie glared at him and snapped back, no ‘beep beep’ though. And now that he really looked closely, he did not see any fire in those big, brown eyes either. Just some annoyance and, if he was not mistaken, amusement? Was Eddie amused by his stupid jokes? Could it be? 

“Let’s just go, guys.” Mike said, already on his way towards the entrance of the clubhouse. He easily pushed the door open, the rest of the group slowly following.

Richie climbed out of the hammock and quickly joined the rest of them, giving Eddie an exaggerated wink as he slid past him.    
The look that Ben gave him did not go unnoticed, at least not for him. There was a kind smile on his face, and eyes that sparkled with happiness. He practically radiated.

It conveyed a message that Richie desperately needed, yet did not know he yearned for. That  _ yes, _ he was a good person, and  _ yes, _ he deserved to be happy in life. It was a nudge in the side, telling him to get a move on already.

One day.

  
  
  


_ Maybe. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a long chapter, but I feel like Ben does not need one either. He loves so purely and truly, he does not care. Richie can feel safe with Ben. There's definitely going to be more in dept talk in later chaps tho don't worry!  
Anyone care to guess who's up next and how it'll go?


	4. Big Bill

“Do you think the Grey aliens are watching us right now?”

  
“R-Richie I swear to  _ God _ if you don’t shut up now, I’ll punch you.” 

“You started it when we were high last week, you bully! You totally mentioned aliens, dude. You wanted to write that paper for lit about them. Remember?” 

“I did not! You just want to blame me for your weirdness.”

Richie snorted and glanced up at his friend, who was sprawled on the couch, from his own position on the floor. The two of them were hanging out solo again, spending quality time in Richie’s home today. His parents were both off to God knows where, some day out for dentists, and he had been rather bored. Since Eddie hadn’t replied to his texts, he had gone to ask Bill if he wanted to come over instead.

They did this, occasionally, when the two of them just needed some form of a brother around them. Richie, being an only child, and Bill, having lost his baby brother too soon, both rather enjoyed spending time ‘chilling’ and starting up random discussions. This latest discussion, aliens, was a topic that span across three meet-ups.    
  


Ever since Bill had confessed to Richie that he truly wished to become a writer, the boys would huddle together on the weekends to bounce ideas off of one another. It became rather obvious that Bill loved to write fantasy and horror stories. Thus, Richie started to do research for them. It kept him busy and entertained, finding all sorts of creepypasta’s and obscure parts of mythology from around the world. It was kept strictly between the two of them that he was a big nerd about it. 

Whenever Bill came up with a new plot point for his stories, he would tell them all to Richie; wanting to hear his honest feedback and criticism.

And it worked. It truly worked. Not only for the stories that Bill wanted to write; The boys were also able to converse more easily about their own struggles, their wants and dreams, their plans for the future. Bill practiced for his speech therapy with Richie, though the boy had to say that the stutter was barely there these days, why he still needed therapy was a riddle on its own. 

“I was thinking of writing about fears next.” Bill pipes up, their eyes meeting for a fleeting moment. “I got S-S-Stan’s already, and Eddie’s. What’s yours?”

Richie raised his eyebrow at that, breaking the contact that they had rather quickly. His fears, his  _ true _ fears, were more than he was ready to spill at this moment in time. Bill did not need to know about them. About the cold sweat on his back, after dreaming that he would be beaten to death by the Bowers gang. Or the ones where Eddie flat out rejects him, calls him slurs and spits him out like the dirty boy he is. The Losers, all turning their backs on him as he tries to navigate life. His parents would disown him and kick him out of the house, and where would he go to next? Or what if his dreams do not come true, and he does not make it as a comedian.What is going to be his back-up plan? He has absolutely none. There is nothing else that he is good at.   
No. Bill did not need to hear those things. 

He was shaken out of his thoughts by a gentle shove to his shoulder. Clouded eyes looked up into a pair of worried ones, making him realise that he had been quiet for just a bit too long. Richie tried to smile it off though, even if it would be in vain. Bill did not usually let something go once it caught his attention. 

For a moment, Richie thought of telling Bill about everything. All his worries and his biggest fears, the things that made his hands shake late at night, when he was all alone. But he did not want to put such a burden on the boy - he had so much to worry about as it was. The pressure of his family, the memories of Georgie.    
  


Lifting up a tip of the veil would not hurt, in theory. But to put that into practice was a craft Richie still had to learn. Even if three of the Losers already knew, and were  _ proud _ of him, it still felt like a marathon he had to shoulder through each and every time. The anxiety about coming out, about facing the possibility of being rejected, the unclear path ahead of him as times changed and warped opinions. Realising that he might have to take this path over and over again seemed exhausting. He did not want that. He just wanted to be  _ normal _ , for once in his life.

It was so much, all at once. And yet it was nothing to most of his friends. It was a mess inside of Richie’s head.

On the other hand - Bill probably was one of the most open-minded guys of the group at this point in time, with all his writing and searching for plot points. And having Bill backing him up would mean a  _ lot _ to him. Not just because it would tilt the friend group towards favor of him, but also because Bill really was like a brother these days. Even if his parents did not want him to stay around any longer, he would still have a sense of family somewhere else.

“Sorry.” Richie said quickly, realising that he  _ again  _ started to space out. “I don’t wanna talk about that right now, Bill. Why don’t you tell me about Eds fear instead? Bet it’s germs. It’s always germs.”

Bill smiled sadly, and Richie knew that he had hoped to get some kind of explanation. He just did not want to do it right away. Bill didn’t even know half of what was up with him, always having been closer to Eddie than to Richie. And that was completely fine, perfect even. Richie was closer to Stan as it was anyway.

“It’s not germs. H-He’s got other stuff to worry about.” 

“Do you know something I don’t, Big Bill?” Richie asked, curiously. 

Richie watched as Bill rolled his eyes and made a hand movement, akin to an audible ‘eh’. Clearly he was not going to get a proper answer to that question. Weird. In return, he gave a half-shrug. If Bill wanted to get information from him, he better start handing some answers back in return.    
Bill frowned, seemed to think it over, but then made a face.  _ Jackpot. _

“Eddie’s been going through shit with his ma. Something about college and moving away. You know how it goes.”

  
Richie nodded, making a grimas at the thought of it. Sonia Kaspbrak was, for a lack of words, a psychopath. Keeping her son on the tightest leash possible, only to tug him back when he tries to take a breath outside of what she deems ‘acceptable’. Richie, for obvious reasons, does not qualify as such in her books. Bill miraculously did. 

“He’s scared that he’ll never get to live. To  _ live _ , Rich. Whu-What the fuck was I supposed to say to that. Has he ever told you something l-like that?”

“Eds? Nah. We talk about a lot of shit, but I would definitely remember if he told me any of this. I joke about her, sure, to make him laugh, but we all know she’s a piece of shit on the inside. Why’d he tell me this, though? You’re his best friend.”

Bill snorted, actually  _ snorted _ , at that, giving Richie a shove on the shoulder. 

“Oh please, the two of you are near inseparable these days. You’d almost think the two of you are dating.”

The silence that fell over them was, in a lack of better words, deafening. Richie squirmed awkwardly and glanced away, his gut feeling knowing that this was actually happening. The fact that Bill called them a couple, of all things, not just best friends, was both flattering and a little painful. Because Eddie was not, would not want to be, his boyfriend. And Richie was not supposed to be interested in boys at all.

He could feel Bill’s eyes zoom in on him, calculating the change in atmosphere in order to come to a possible solution. In moments like this, Richie could not help thinking of how much Bill could be like Stan. Both thinkers, although Bill more reckless and more outspoken in nature, and both annoyingly good at figuring him out.

“Rich?” Bill’s voice came, a tad softer than he had expected it to be. “ _ Are _ the two of you dating?”

This time it was Richie that snorted, because that conclusion was so wrong. It was not common for Bill to be this far off from the truth of things, especially not when it came to their friends. Richie just shook his head in reply, swallowing his pride. Oh how he wished that Eddie was his boyfriend. Yes it was incredibly sappy to be thinking about it, but it wasn’t as if anyone could read inside his head. Except for the aliens, of course.

But man, the thought of being able to date Eddie. That was something that honestly kept him up at night. Let it be known that Richard Tozier is a closeted bisexual man and a right  _ sap _ . He would happily take the boy out to the cinema, just the two of them, or out for ice cream. Little date ideas like that. Maybe they would have actual sleepovers again, instead of sneaking into the other’s room and leaving before Mrs K could find out about it.

“You want him to be your boyfriend, don’t you?” He heard Bill ask, and this time he nodded. There wasn’t a way out anymore. Fuck this went so fast. How long ago had it been that nobody knew.

“So why haven’t you asked him yet?”

“Wait wh- What the fuck, Bill?” Richie glanced up at him, eyes wide. “ _ Why _ haven’t I asked? Are you stupid! It’s fucking Derry we live in. Why do you  _ think _ I won’t ask. Plus he’s not gay, or bi, or anything that’s remotely about dudes. No thanks, I like him as my best friend too much.”

“You don’t know th-though.” Bill said, rolling his eyes, not letting it go yet. “Rich, tell him. What’s there to lose? He’s not gonna c-cast you aside. None of us will. It’s fine if you want to date him, I like seeing you happy. Plus, who else will tolerate your T-Trashmouth?”

Richie waved his hand impatiently, thinking through what Bill was telling him right now. It was a somewhat comforting thought that Bill, with all his might and glory, thought him and Eddie to be a good pair. It certainly was a boost for ones confidence. 

But to tell Eddie meant to accept things he was not ready to accept just yet. It would mean giving in to a part of himself that was still not going to be accepted, not in Derry. Not in his family.

“You realise that me and Eddie are close, right?” Bill asked, raising his eyebrows. “We go b-back a long way. If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t talk about this. Ask him.”

“I can’t, Bill. How the fuck could I. And not everybody knows and what if Eddie doesn’t  _ accept  _ me, I’d die. I would fucking die right there.”

“Wait. Not everybody? You telling me others know? Who?”

“Well, Stan knows. And I talked about it with Bev, and with Ben. Still don’t know how  _ that  _ happened but eh. One moment you all good and the next having an existential crisis and just needing to talk.”

Bill sighed at that, moving himself around a bit until he flopped down next to Richie. He simply gave the taller boy a pat on the shoulder as he moved, until they were practically pressed together. It came to Richie that this was Bill’s way to offer some kind of comfort to him, and today he was rather thankful for such a display of affection. He leaned into it, head tilted to the side until it gently pushed against Bill’s.    
They were quiet for some time, both seemingly lost in their thoughts. Richie had no idea what Bill would be thinking about at a time like this, but he knew that his mind would wander to Eddie again - if he allowed it to. Instead, he tried to keep focus on the real world around him. On Bill pressed against his side, the air flowing in his lungs with each inhale, the way his heart was beating steadily deep inside his chest.

“As the one Luh-Loser with experience in dating, come to me once you’re ready.”

“Will do, Big Bill. Will do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taken me so, so long to write this chapter, and I still worry I didn't do Bill justice.  
I hope you all enjoy, and all feedback is welcome <3


End file.
